Why adequate attention must be given to the boy-child —Bayonle

In this interview with YETUNDE AJANAKU, founder of The Ife Bayonle Network (TIBN), Ifedolapo Bayonle, spoke on the urgent need for narrative change in Nigeria, the importance of boy-child advocacy, youth pressures and leadership education.

FROM your work across communities, what do you think is the most damaging narrative holding the country back today?

The most damaging narrative holding the country back is “Que sera sera—what will be will be”. As simple and straightforward as that is, time and chance have proven that to be false. Nothing changes by the sheer passage of time or inactivity. Change happens intentionally.

Having founded The Ife Bayonle Network to address social gaps, what personal experiences or observations convinced you that narrative change was not optional, but urgent?

I saw the way the girl-child is being raised intentionally and catered for deliberately, but nothing is being done for the boy-child which has succeeded in creating a widening gap between both genders in terms of welfare and has further led to a situation where good girls become preys to bad boys, hence the need to alter narratives.

Why did you decide to focus on boy-child advocacy and what uncomfortable truths has the work revealed?

Because little or no attention is paid to the boy-child. The society is ruled by the notion that the boy-child is fine on his own, but statistics have proven otherwise. Now more than ever before, there’s a need for seeking the welfare of the boy-child for balance, wholesome living and peaceful coexistence.

Before TIBN became what it is today, what did the early days look like, particularly with regard to the challenges that tested your resolve the most?

The early days were quite interesting. Financial and human resources were major constraints but it can only get better.

What do you believe Nigeria is getting wrong about youth engagement?

When it comes to youth engagement, I believe there’s a need for flexibility and support of youth-led initiatives to increase participation nationally and globally. There has been a steady increase in that, but I believe more can be done.

From your interactions with young Nigerians, what fears, pressures or expectations are they struggling with that society often ignores?

From my interactions, many young Nigerians are quietly battling the fear of becoming irrelevant despite doing everything “right.” There’s a deep anxiety about effort not translating to opportunity; graduating, upskilling, serving, yet remaining unseen. Society often celebrates resilience but ignores the emotional toll of prolonged uncertainty: delayed milestones, financial dependence well into adulthood, and the pressure to “make it” not just for themselves but for entire families. There’s also the silent burden of comparison in a hyper-visible digital age—watching peers (sometimes falsely) succeed while one’s own progress feels stalled. Add to that the expectation to be strong, grateful, and hopeful at all times, leaving little room to admit fatigue, confusion, or fear. Many young people are not just looking for jobs or platforms; they’re longing for dignity, clarity, and permission to grow at a human pace.

How do you balance advocacy with realism in a country where policy implementation and institutional support are inconsistent?

I balance advocacy with realism by anchoring my expectations in people, not just policies. Advocacy, for me, is about shaping mindsets, building capacity, and creating micro-systems that work even when macro-systems falter. While I engage policy conversations and institutional frameworks, I do not suspend action waiting for them to be perfect.

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What qualities do you believe Nigerian leaders, both present and emerging, are lacking the most?

The most lacking qualities are self-awareness and moral courage. Many leaders are skilled, loud, or visionary, but few are deeply examined. Without inner clarity, power amplifies flaws. We need leaders who can sit with truth, choose responsibility over convenience, and remain accountable when applause fades.

TIBN has hosted conferences and grassroots interventions. Which moment or conversation has stayed with you the most, and why?

A young boy once said to me, “Sir, nobody has ever asked me what kind of man I want to become.” That moment stayed with me because it revealed the real gap, not absence of talent, but absence of intentional guidance. It reaffirmed why TIBN exists.

As a writer and public speaker, how do you ensure your message informs and challenges, rather than simply inspires?

I refuse to end with emotion alone. Every message must leave the listener with a mirror and a mandate; something to unlearn, decide, or practice. Inspiration that doesn’t lead to responsibility is noise.

Nigeria is a country of strong opinions and deep divisions. How do you engage people who resist conversations around responsibility, values, and reform?

I start with shared pain, not superior arguments. When people feel seen rather than judged, resistance softens. Reform conversations stick when they sound less like accusation and more like collective survival.

Looking at Nigeria today, are you more hopeful or more concerned, and what experiences have shaped that outlook?

I am soberly hopeful. The systems worry me, but the people, especially the youth, give me confidence. I’ve seen too much courage, creativity, and conscience to give up now.

What lessons from building TIBN would you pass on to young Nigerians who want to lead change but lack resources or institutional backing?

Start with conviction, not capital. Build credibility before visibility. Do the work consistently, even in obscurity. Systems may delay you, but integrity will eventually introduce you.

What role should media, education, and family play in reshaping Nigeria’s future?

The media must tell fuller stories, not just sensational ones. Education must form character, not just certificates. The family must return to its role as the first leadership school. When these align, nations heal.

What practical advice would you offer for Nigerians who feel disconnected from leadership and exhausted by the system to stay engaged without losing themselves?

Shrink the battle to your sphere of control. Lead where you stand. Guard your values fiercely. You don’t have to carry the nation on your head, just don’t abandon your conscience. That, too, is leadership.